


I'm not going to miss you

by Leniam



Series: Alternatively [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal is angry, He has no right to be, M/M, They biker, They talk, Will gets some revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 10:51:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11251608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leniam/pseuds/Leniam
Summary: A new ending for Digestivo.





	I'm not going to miss you

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Non mi mancherai](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8891812) by [Leniam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leniam/pseuds/Leniam). 



> Another translation by  
> [BETWEEN-IRONANDSILVER](http://between-ironandsilver.tumblr.com/)  
> Thank you Ashley for your precious time.
> 
> This is an alternative ending I wrote to cheer myself up after the umpteenth rewatch of Digestivo.

 

 

_I miss my dogs. I’m not going to miss you._

Those were the words that finally opened his eyes.

Throughout the period of time he spent in Italy, Hannibal had been almost completely alienated from reality. He felt split, as if part of him was living with Bedelia, pretending to be able to simply shrug Will off and start over, and another part was hiding in a corner of his Palace, screaming his lungs out, without ever being heard by anyone, and certainly not by the man he restlessly invoked.

Will.

A soundless, desperate cry that echoed through his hollow chest with every beat of his heart.

Hannibal had waited for him. He had prayed Will could understand and forgive his actions, he had hoped Will knew those were the actions of a desperate man, who had been hurt and betrayed. But when Will came to look for him in Italy, it wasn’t to claim him as his equal companion, and finally take the place by Hannibal’s side that had been wrongly occupied by Bedelia; no, it was just to seek revenge.

Hannibal had been wrong about him all along, and behind his awful, colossal mistake was such a trite cause.

Love.

That was what kept him from getting rid of Will like he would have done with anybody else, that’s what kept him from being free again, mentally and physically. He was caged and lost forever.

He might as well embrace his fate.

Will had made himself very clear, he was not going to miss him.

Hannibal was going to wait for Jack, then, and finally put an end to their game.

He sat down on the ground, hiding behind Will’s house.

 

 

It hurt.

The wound on his face.

So did the one on his back, but the cut on his face was far worse right now, and it felt wet…

Hannibal touched it with a trembling hand as he tried to get up from the puddle of melting snow he found himself in.

Someone was shouting at his back.

Will.

Hands grabbed at the hem of his coat. “Can you walk?” Will was asking.

Hannibal heard the words, but couldn’t quite bring himself to reply.

His throat felt like sandpaper, and a blinding pain was shooting through his back. He wanted to twist around to assess the damage with his hands, but had no strength to even try.

He let his head fall back, too tired, exhausted and helpless to hold it upright.

He thought to himself that he must have finally figured out his true limits.

A sudden blow across his face.

“Hannibal!”

His head was hanging low against his chest.

“I can’t do this on my own, Hannibal!”

Will held Hannibal’s arm around his shoulders and tried to pull him upright, but he was too weak and still a bit dazed from the powerful sedative running through his blood.

Then, as Hannibal tried to stand on his own feet and help Will moving, someone else appeared by his side to support his weight.

Muffled voices.

Hannibal let himself fall down again.

He heard Will’s distant voice asking: “What are you doing here?”

Then everything went dark.

 

His Palace was deadly quiet. For the first time in years.

Noises gradually creptin from outside and around him.

Animated discussions, words he couldn’t quite grasp.

He woke up a few times and found himself lying face down on a bed, his back grateful for the merciful position.

He had no idea how much time had passed.

Or where he was right now.

The one thing that kept him anchored to reality: Will’s smell around him.

 

 

Hannibal opened his eyes, fully conscious and awake.

This time, his mind was perfectly responsive.

He was still resting in the same spot and position; he was naked, except for a blanket covering the lower half of his body, but he was not cold.

A bed, a comfortable room, the crackling sound of burning firewood somewhere behind him. He could smell wood in there. A cabin, then.

Everything around him smelled like Will, including Hannibal himself.

He remembered hearing Will’s voice.

And maybe his hands stroking Hannibal’s hair?

The door creaked open, and Will peeked inside. He froze on the spot, surprised to find Hannibal conscious again.

“You’re awake,” he said as he came in, “How are you feeling?”

Hannibal did not answer, he stared at him, silent and astonished. Unable to make sense of the new reality Will’s unpredictability had created for them.

He could not guess or calculate from now on, Hannibal was powerless, he had nothing he could use to his advantage anymore.

He had been denied even his last, final decision about his fate, and everything had been turned upside down by this devastating, ungrateful and merciless hurricane named Will Graham. Who broke his heart. Who was not going to miss him.

“Hannibal…” Will repeated.

“Where’s Jack?” Hannibal asked.

“Who?” Will replied, even though he knew perfectly well what Hannibal was talking about. “He obviously isn’t here.”

Will sat down beside Hannibal on the edge of the bed.

“I heard voices, you were discussing with someone… What’s your plan? I was going to turn myself in, you don’t need to do all this.”

“You were going to… why would you do that?” Will asked, sincerely shocked.

“Will, why am I here?” Hannibal ignored his question, “You told me you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“That’s why you wanted to turn yourself in, because I rejected you?”

Hannibal slowly exhaled. He tried to sit up, but Will put a hand on his back and pushed him back down.

“Don’t move, your wound is infected. You’ve had a fever for the last couple of days.”

“I am not going to die if I get up.”

“I know that, but still, could you lie down?”

Hannibal buried his face in the pillow.

He had nothing to lose.

And he was curious about what was going to happen now.

 

 

Will came back in two hours later.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“No.”

“Of course you are, you always are, and you haven’t eaten anything in two days,” Will touched the bandages on the small of his back.

“Will…” Hannibal moved his hand away.

“Can you stop this? What’s going on with you? What changed since we last spoke two days ago?”

“You did, apparently…” Hannibal drily said, “You are different, now. From the man who sat there, telling me how he was never going to miss me as much as he missed his dogs.”

Hannibal spoke in a calm, controlled voice, but if he could have expressed his rage out loud, the loudest scream he was capable of wouldn’t have sufficed. This version of Will was possibly even more annoying than the one constantly rejecting him, because this Will was everything Hannibal hated: indecisiveness, afterthoughts, uncertainty, hesitation.

“This makes no sense, Will,” Hannibal went on, “Unless you’re just planning on helping me recover so that you can kill me when I feel better again. In that case…”

“In that case it would be alright? You’re free to believe that is why I’m doing this, then. Can we move on now?”

Hannibal turned his head to the side as far as he could, trying to meet Will’s eyes. He quietly considered the younger man for a few seconds, then said: “You’re such a resourceful creature, Will. I must admit that, and I must surrender to you.”

He raised his hands in defeat. “Do as you please. When you get tired of me again, you will call Jack yourself. I am not hungry. Go away.”

He waited.

The door slammed shut, the sudden noise just as loud and clear as Will’s irritation.

The younger man had given up.

Hannibal put his head down on the pillow again; he closed his eyes as a new stab of pain ran down his back.

It had never taken him that long to recover from injuries. He had never spent whole days in bed because of something like that.

He could feel something inside him was not properly working anymore; a single broken gear was enough to clog the whole machine.

The door opened again after just a few seconds.

Hannibal grinded his teeth and turned around. Will had his back turned to him as he carefully walked backwards, carrying a bowl of soup, a spoon and a glass of water. He put everything down on the bedside table.

“Will…”

“Shut it.”

“Are you enjoying this useless, meaningless waste of time?”

“Oh yes, that’s pretty much all I’m doing,” Will drily replied, pushing his glasses higher on his nose.

Hannibal faced the opposite way and lowered his head again.

“I’ll eat, then,” Will said, “You go on and behave like an idiot.”

Hannibal exhaled, eyes sliding shut as his hands closed into fists. “When did we… become so intimate that we decided to switch to cheap name-calling?”

“I have the right to insult you all I want, Hannibal, or do I need to remind you that you were trying to saw my skull open just a few days ago?”

“You tried to kill me, first…”

“Cut the bullshit! Are you the victim, now?” Will raised his voice, “I could chop off all your limbs and we still wouldn’t be even. And Chiyoh shot me too soon for you to make assumptions about what I was going to do with that knife.”

“Luckily I don’t really care about making assumptions,” Hannibal replied.

“I know you don’t care. You never did. You only care about the pace you choose to set, everyone else just has to keep up. It doesn’t matter how long I need, to think things over and come to a decision, I’m always taking too long, aren’t I? And hesitation just means NO to you.”

“Of course, you were simply considering your options, when you said goodbye to me.”

“But then I went back to get you.”

Hannibal went quiet.

And he hoped Will was going to do the same.

He had heard enough of his empty words. Will was good at talking, but he rarely acted according to what he said. And when he did, it usually meant Hannibal was going to be disappointed again.

The spoon clinked against the edge of the bowl, then once again when it hit Will’s teeth.

Hannibal had to physically keep himself from turning around. It was quite hard to keep his fascination for Will at bay; watching the other man eat could be just as satiating as actually eating the food he had prepared… and Hannibal really was starving.

He was thirsty, too.

“Eat something, Hannibal. Please…?”

Hannibal frowned and listened more carefully.

Oh, the young man was using all his well-practised persuasion techniques, one after the other.

And for once, he was not doing it for his own personal advantage.

Will put his hand on Hannibal’s bare shoulder. Irritation blossomed inside the doctor’s chest when his body immediately reacted to the simple touch, shivering and then warming up under Will’s fingertips.

He couldn’t be rational, when it came to Will. Will escaped every calculated probability, every constant and every variable. Will was something else entirely. And that’s why Hannibal had fallen in love with him right away.

Will could be steered towards a certain path, but never forced to walk it to the end.

He could be directed, but then he would most likely decide to turn around and continue on a completely different course.

Will was the only one potentially capable of standing by his side not out of fear, or as a result of Hannibal’s manipulations, but because he really wanted to.

But he didn’t.

No matter how he looked at it, Hannibal always had to deal with the awareness that all his anger, frustration, disappointment and pain had a shared root in that simple knowledge.

Will did not want him.

Hannibal let Will’s gentle touch turn him around, submitting to his need and resignation. He tried to sit up, using his elbows to support the upper half of his body, but he moaned when the movement aggravated the pain on his lower back.

Will went to help him, but Hannibal glared at him and he froze on the spot.

“You seemed less pissed off when we were tied at Mason’s table,” Will remarked. He dragged a stool to the edge of the bed and sat down.

“Hard to believe, but Mason was way more consistent than you. He would not be here now feeding me, for example.”

Hannibal finally managed to sit up. The blanket fell down to his hips and pooled over his crotch.

“Why am I naked?” he asked, hoping that would make Will uncomfortable.

Will shrugged. “Convenience?”

“Whose convenience?”

“You’re covered in wounds, I would have to take your clothes off and put them back on every time I need to check on them. I even made a fire, so what’s the matter? If you’re worried about who undressed you, it wasn’t me, but I don’t see why you would care, since you undressed me, and then redressed me as you pleased, at least ten times. And you never had good intentions.”

“Last time, I quite literally saved your face, and then carried you through the snow all the way home.You’re welcome, by the way. And I decided to put some clothes on you because your house was very cold, as I had the chance to confirm while I sat motionless beside you for hours, waiting for you to wake up.”

“That makes us even, then,” Will replied.

“Oh, is that what this is about? That’s all? You’re making it up to me so that we have no unfinished business? I never asked for this, Will, I consider you free from any obligation.”

“If this was about my debt towards you, you would be rotting in my backyard, waiting for Jack to pick you up on his way to prison. But you’re not, you’re here with me. We’re here, together. You know what that means.”

It meant they were both involved, now. If they both went missing after the carnage at the Verger mansion, then they were both hiding something. Jack was not going to assume Will was dead, when all the evidence inside his house pointed in the opposite direction.

“Where are we?” Hannibal asked, truly interested in what was going on for the first time since he woke up.

“This is… a place… that… I’ve had ready for a few months. Since before I decided to come to Italy.”

Will was hesitant, he sounded like there was something he was reluctant to confess.

“A place… that you made?” Hannibal asked him.

“I thought… if you came back here, you wouldn’t have anywhere safe to go, and…” Will looked down. He was very clearly feeling guilty over the fact that he was ready to help and hide a serial killer. But Hannibal could also read awkwardness in his muttered words, a deep embarrassment that was linked to the two of them together, not to the fact they were now murderers on the run.

Hannibal leaned back against the pillows and pulled the blanked up to his chest. “You were in Italy to find me and take me back here.”

Will vaguely nodded a few times.

“Pulling out a knife is quite a weird way of conveying that…” Hannibal promptly remarked.

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Will burst out, “Do you really fucking believe you can decide to gut me and I will just go with it? Is that what you expected? Is that the kind of person you think I am? I was at least going to return the favour. Then we would have come back here, together, once it was clear to you that if you want to be an asshole with me, then you’re going to accept the consequences of your actions. And I don’t even need to mention Abigail, that is a mistake you are still paying for. You’ll always pay for that.”

Hannibal considered that to be the one thing Will would never forgive, the reason why he could not see him as anything more than an enemy to take down, and instead it was the first thing Will clarified. And what he said was true.

Abigail had been his only, huge mistake. She had left him with the deepest void he had ever felt since Mischa.

Hannibal closed his eyes. A single tear rolled down his cheek and he didn’t try to hide it. Will had always been open and honest about what Abigail meant for him, and Hannibal was going to be, too.

“I know you are suffering because of that,” Will went on, his voice lower than before, “And you should. But I knew and accepted you for what you are, so I should have prevented what happened that night. We are both responsible for what happened with Abigail.”

Will rubbed his eyes and then took the bowl of soup in his hands.

“It got cold, I will warm it up again.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hannibal put his hand on Will’s knee. “It’s fine as it is.”

Will gave him the bowl. He had never cooked for Hannibal before, it had always been the other way around.

Hannibal finished his soup, and even though it was undoubtedly not going to win an award for best soup of the year, Will’s cooking definitely seemed to be the quickest way to reconcile.

Hannibal took the glass of water Will was offering him.

“Don’t drink too fast, Doctor.”

Hannibal stared at him sideways over the brim of his glass and slowly took a sip, then another one and a third one, pausing for a few seconds after each gulp.

“Was that acceptable?” Hannibal teased.

“I just don’t want you to throw up on this bed,” Will justified himself. “How’s your back?”

“It hurts.”

“Is there something I can do to help the infection heal faster?”

“What you did should be enough. It will heal.” Just the thought of lying down on his back was painful enough to deduce the wound hadn’t really gotten any better in the last two days. But at least his temperature was under control.

“Chiyoh helped me getting here, she was the one who told me what to do. And she undressed you. She seemed rather comfortable with the task,” Will commented.

“Of course she was, she had already seen me naked before. Even though that was a lifetime ago.”

“Thank you, I really needed to know that,” Will stood by his side as he helped him lie face down again.

As soon as he left Hannibal alone, the man gave in to the urge of whimpering. His back was so tense it felt like a crumpled piece of paper, and the constant, maddening pain was covering every inch of his body like a heavy blanket.

He woke up several times to the sound of his own groans, and he was only able to sleep for very short periods of time.

Then, as he opened his eyes for the hundredth time, he found out the room was already being flooded in faint sunlight, and his hand was inches away from Will’s leg.

The young man was sitting beside him against the headboard, his head abandoned against his chest. He was asleep, his hand resting on Hannibal’s back, the palm splayed over the clean bandages that covered the Verger brand. Will had put a woollen blanket over him, because the fire was almost out and the room was getting colder. Hannibal was surrounded by soothing warmth.

He could not compare this to anything else they had ever shared before. Hannibal felt irrationally compelled to stay completely still, afraid the slightest variation could break the spell.

He never knew anything for sure, when it came to Will, so who knew how long this new arrangement was going to last? The wisest thing Hannibal could do was enjoying it while he could.

Another moment of weakness, and Will Graham had him on his knees yet again.

He knew Will was going to devour him whole once more. He was too tired to fight it, and too resigned to the next, unavoidable disappointment to resist the temptation of falling in his trap.

He had to admit it to himself, though, if this was just part of Will’s game, the young man had demonstrated he was perfectly capable of successfully destroying Hannibal Lecter.

He was just too tired.

He closed his eyes.

When he woke up again, he noticed with great pleasure Will’s different position. He had unconsciously slid down on the bed and was now lying on his back beside Hannibal, his head turned to face the other man.

How interesting.

Hannibal silently observed as his eyelids fluttered open.

He waited for him to freak out and quickly sit up, clearing his throat and trying to hide his embarrassment.

Will just slightly lifted his chin instead, closing the small gap between their mouths, his hand coming up to rest behind Hannibal’s neck as he kissed him.

Hannibal broke the kiss, his mild shock quickly turning into confusion.

“Yes, okay… that was impulsive of me,” Will muttered. He stayed right where he was, though, so that Hannibal could not put his head back on the pillow. The uncomfortable angle was putting quite a strain on his neck.

Hannibal squinted at him. He pretended to analyse him, when in fact he had no idea where to start.

“I’m cold,” Will said.

Hannibal realized he still hadn’t said a single word; maybe he was traumatized, not just confused.

“Is it okay if I join you under the covers?” Will didn’t wait for Hannibal’s reply. The doctor felt the mattress sink under Will’s weight as he wiggled under the blanket. Hannibal waited for him to settle down and then turned his face away.

“Do you think you’re allowed to do whatever comes to your mind, whenever you want?” he asked.

Will laughed. Not one of his usual derisive or fake, condescending snorts, but a vibrant and honest laugh. It bounced loudly between the two of them, even though Hannibal was not trying to be funny.

The sound made his throat feel impossibly tight.

Oh, he loved him. He loved the complex sum of elements that always resulted in unpredictable outcomes, he loved the bundle of endless variables, the maddeningly undecipherable code that Will embodied.

“Oh, I _know_ I am,” Will lifted Hannibal’s arm and tugged at it until it lay across his chest and Hannibal was forced to hug him. Well, _forced_ was probably not the most accurate way to describe how Hannibal felt about it. “I am allowed to do anything I want, because you’re desperately in love with me and nothing I could do would ever change that.”

Hannibal gradually took in the way his arm surrounded Will’s hip, the feeling of Will’s hand slowly running down his back and stopping a few inches above the curve of his ass, the tickling sensation of their warm breaths mingling together between their mouths, their faces so close that they could hardly see each other clearly, and he was finally able to reply.

“I am more than just in love with you, Will,” he spoke in a low, resigned voice. There was no wisdom in his words, just pure need. It felt like someone was forcing those words out of him; trying to resist would have maybe made him feel less exposed, but it was not going to change his fate.

“I love you so deeply that I would have spent the rest of my life imprisoned, contemplating old memories of you inside my Palace. I would have always held onto the hope of seeing you again, someday.”

Will’s kiss was different from the first one; his soft, smooth lips caressed Hannibal’s dry and chapped ones. One of the bruises left by Jack’s blows sent a pang of pain through his face, but Hannibal ignored it easily enough.

This lazy, languid touch was the most sensual thing he had ever experienced; Hannibal’s heartbeat sped up in response. Then it gave up, stopping altogether, or at least pretending to, when Will tentatively licked his lower lip.

Hannibal had always compared Will and his scent to various compositions, in his mind, the melody depending on Will’s mood and on how he behaved.

The most glorious aria could not describe what Hannibal heard as they kissed.

Will’s pliant mouth was eager to meet his own in a slow and cosy embrace that comforted Hannibal and finally helped his mind relax, giving him something to hold onto. And Will’s honesty in admitting he needed their physical proximity allowed him to comfortably do the same.

“Why did you tell me you were not going to miss me?” Hannibal asked in between kisses, keeping Will close, careful as he would be with a wild animal, afraid a single wrong step could scare him off.

“You abandoned me and ran away with someone else,” Will reminded him, “You left me there to tend to my wounds by myself. You left me alone. I survived and it was agonizing. I missed you, every day, I missed you so badly I sometimes wished you had killed me. And I was alone. Did those few words hurt you? Serves you right.”

“Was that your revenge? I would have preferred being stabbed outside the Uffizi Gallery.”

“Blame Chiyoh, then,” Will replied. “I’m happier this way, though. My words seem to shove you down on your knees way more efficiently than a branding iron ever could.”

Hannibal had to close his eyes and swallow. Will’s hand was slowly running down his body, his fingertips and open palm alternating as the man stroked his backside and then paused on the small of his back.

“There are other ways you could have me kneel at your feet,” Hannibal stated.

“I know that, now. Let’s confront each other about our divergences on a ground where we’re both on the same level, from now on.”

Hannibal only had to slightly tilt his head upwards and his lips touched Will’s again. How convenient.

“Deal.”


End file.
